SHERlocked
by cgal120
Summary: An argument over the phone causes a distracted Arthur to get into a bad accident, however when he wakes up he finds himself in the middle of a twisted case in which everything he cares about must take a fall in order to solve the final problem.


_**Sherlocked**_

Of all the things that they could possibly argue about, Arthur was certainly not expecting a television drama to be one of the things to make them fall out. It was early January, a Sunday evening that Arthur had been looking forward to along with many others for one long year; the BBC drama **Sherlock** was finally coming back onto the UK screens.

Thanks to Alfred, the British nation had been secretly apart of the Tumblr networking site and was surprised when he looked under the tag for **Sherlock** how many American fans were looking forward to the serious even though BBC America wouldn't be allowed to air it until after the British viewing was over. Many people were talking about Livestreaming and uploads and a whole manner of things that Arthur knew would have the copyright people churning in their little corporate offices, so he was a little surprised when he started to get texts and calls from Alfred asking why he wasn't allowed to air the series at the same time.

"It's not my decision, Alfred," Arthur tried to explain the Sunday of the first airing. He settled onto his bed with a cup of tea, turning on the television set in his bedroom but keeping the volume low for the time being. "As much as I would love to let you air it, I can't."

"That's a load of bullshit!" Alfred complained, clearly huffing at the end of the line. Arthur could almost hear the pout forming on the American's lip so rolled his eyes.

"Alfred, I can assure you that I would love nothing more than to exchange messages about the show with you as it happens, but you must understand; personification of Britain, I may be, but that does not mean that I have any power with in the British Broadcasting Corporation."

"The show starts in like 30 minutes, Arthur!" Alfred complained. "I'm on Tumblr and all the Sherlockians are already posting about how exciting it's going to be!"

"Then Livestream it or something!" Arthur sighed. "BBC iPlayer! I don't know, Alfred!" Arthur rubbed his temples with his left hand, refraining from shouting at the boy more; he knew it was simple because he wanted to watch the show but it was really starting to get on his nerves now. "Listen. Avoid Tumblr for the evening," he finally said. "I will record the episode, and you can come by and watch it with me tomorrow? Okay?"

"But-"

"Alfred, please," Arthur said, at his wits end with the boy. "If you're lucky, we can even watch that Sherlock Holmes movie too or do something _else_."

"Something else sounds interesting," Alfred said, Arthur chuckling a little at the new tone to his voice; it was a little deeper and a little alluring, so he had managed to successfully pick up his double meaning.

"Good boy," Arthur smirked. "Now let me record Sherlock so we have something to watch tomorrow when you get here."

"Fine," Alfred said, finally abstaining from the fight. "I'll call you later when I'm on my flight. It's still morning here."

"I know, Love," Arthur chuckled, flicking through the menus on his television and setting **Sherlock** to series record. "See you later."

"Laters~!" Alfred grinned, knowing how much Arthur hated being talked to like that. Growling slightly, Arthur glared at the device in his hands as the dial tone sounded once more; sighing again before hanging up and putting the phone down. He turned his attention back to the television screen, calming finally as **Sherlock** started.

_**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**_

Amazing.

Simply amazing.

Arthur couldn't quite put into words how he was feeling about the first episode; all the little details and effects, all the puzzles and questions, and the jokes between Sherlock and John. He chuckled to himself, surprised at how much a simple television program could affect him.

Picking up the television remote, Arthur turned off the monitor and got up from his bed. Carefully, he picked up his tea cup and saucer, being sure neither would drop from his grip before walking out of his bedroom.

However, once out on the landing, his mobile began to ring. Arthur groaned slightly, taking the device from his pocket whilst trying to balance his cup and looked at the screen.

It was Alfred.

"Yes, Alfred?" said the British man, a slight hint of annoyance in his voice. He may not have been asleep, but it was the principle of being called at 11 o'clock in the evening that gave Arthur the harsher tone.

"Dude, I'm on the plane," the American said, ignoring the tone of Arthur's voice in favour of creating a tone of his own.

"Then I will see you at 8 tomorrow…" Arthur said, walking down the corridor towards the staircase.

"Duh!" Alfred said. "I've been online though while I've been waiting to get on the plane. Arthur! The reviews and images of the episode already! I am so pissed that you won't let it air in my country yet!"

"Get over it," Arthur said, too tired to want to put up with Alfred's childishness. It was a television program for heaven's sake; it wasn't the end of the world if the boy had to wait to see it. Although, with Alfred's position and immaturity, it might as well have been…

"No," Alfred snapped. "I keep on seeing all of these things and keep hearing people talking about it and it's pissing me off more."

"Then don't look or listen!" Arthur said, almost shouting down the line at the American. "Alfred, it is 11 o'clock in the evening, I have been awake since 4 in the morning because you called me earlier. I want to get some fucking sleep."

"But-"

"NO, ALFRED! I- AHHH!"

At that moment, Arthur's foot had caught under the rug near the top of the stairs. His cup and saucer fell out of his hand and smashed on the floor as he tumbled down the stairs. The phone slipped from his grip and fell down with him, but Arthur couldn't place where he was. His head hit against the steps, the banister and the wall, finally hitting the floor as he got to the bottom. The phone landed beside him as he lay unconscious on the floor, Alfred still connected on the other end; panicking a little as he had heard everything.

"Arthur?"

_**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**_

His head throbbing, Arthur opened his eyes after a while. It was light outside, but Arthur wasn't in his house. He wasn't even on the floor. He was wearing a dark dressing gown and was laying in an arm chair. Daylight poured in through the window of the apartment, and Arthur could see a whole manner of things that definitely did not belong to him.

Groaning slightly, he rubbed his temple and attempted to stand up, jumping a little as he heard a door open and close. Looking ahead of him, he watched as the door to the room he was in opened and Alfred walked in. The American was carrying a newspaper which he threw over to Arthur, then sat on a chair next to a table and started to type away on a laptop.

"Come on, Arthur," he said, glancing over at the bewildered Brit. "I got you your paper; flick through and get dressed. Antonio's trial starts today and you need to be there to give evidence! And whatever you do, for the love of God, don't be a smartass."

"I beg your pardon?" Arthur said, tempted to throw the paper at Alfred's head. He went dizzy though so decided to just sit back and let his mind catch up. It felt as though everything was playing in fast forward, and he finally remembered what was going on; he was Arthur Kirkland, consulting detective to the police of London. He lived with Alfred Jones, ex-army doctor and administrator of the blog full of information about the cases he had helped solve.

Antonio Carriedo was Arthur's enemy; a cunning man with brains that could quite equally rival Arthur's. He was a fantastic actor though, able to convince some that he was a daft, simple man when in fact he could charm his way into any place.

"What was his case about?" Arthur asked, rubbing his temples and glancing at the American who was still typing away.

"He managed to simultaneously break into the Tower of London, the Bank of England and Pentonville Prison about 6 weeks ago, and was found sat on a chair in the middle of the display room wearing the crown jewels," Alfred said, turning in his chair.

"Of course," Arthur said. "Sorry, I'm not entirely with it today…"

"I can tell," Alfred replied, shaking his head slightly. "You did have a long day yesterday what with all the reward ceremonies and things. You know, the strangest thing about him breaking into the Tower wasn't even him breaking into 3 places at once."

"Was it not? That sounds rather peculiar though."

"Well, yeah, but he wrote _Get Arthur_ on the glass backwards in view of the security camera before he smashed into it…"

Arthur blinked and then remembered that particular image that was released in the papers. "Of course," he muttered, getting to his feet. "I'll just get dressed." With that he took off his dressing gown only to be wearing a shirt and trousers beneath it already. He moved over to the door and put his shoes on, wrapping a scarf around his neck before getting his coat on. "Do hurry up, Alfred, we'll be late."

Alfred looked up at the British man and shook his head, a slight smile on his face. Arthur smiled back, watching as Alfred got up from his seat and walked over to him. He felt his hands on his waist pulling him closer before receiving a soft kiss on the lips.

"Don't be a smartass," Alfred mumbled against his lips.

"I can help it," Arthur said, grinning a little before kissing Alfred again. Alfred rolled his eyes a little before pulling away and smiling.

"Let's go."

_**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**_

After fighting their way through the hoards of reporters and the screaming fans outside their flat and the courthouse, Arthur and Alfred finally managed to get inside. They were greeted in the hall by Francis Bonnefoy, the police officer that Arthur had to consult with over the past few years.

"Arthur," Francis said, walking over and holding his hand out. He retracted it when Arthur made no motion to do the same. "He's in Court Ten. Do try not to act clever."

"Yes, yes," Arthur said, rolling his eyes a little. "Now, if you do not mind, I need to go to the toilet."

With no other words, he walked away from Alfred and Francis, leaving them to wait dumbfounded in the foyer of the courthouse as he made his way into the men's room. He made sure he was quick, but as he came out of the stall and washed his hands he heard the door open.

"It's you," he heard a girl's voice say. He looked around to get a look of the girl, her long brown hair flowing down her back and green eyes scanning over him with a look of bright interest in them. She was dressed smartly, but with objects on her that contrasted the outfit drastically such as a I heart Arthur badge and hat.

"You're in the wrong bathroom," Arthur said simply, turning away and drying his hands.

"I'm a _huge_ fan!" the girl pressed, hurrying over to him to get a better look. Arthur turned back towards her and looked her up and down once more.

"Evidently."

"I've followed all of your cases!" she grinned. "Please! Please could you sign my shirt?" She opened her coat to reveal her blouse, which was opened rather lowly along her breasts. Arthur watched as he held out a pen to him, rolling his eyes once more.

"You realise that in this world currently there are two types of fans?" he asked.

"Oh?" the girl said, caught off guard for a moment.

"Yes. Type one is the _catch me before I kill again_ fans," Arthur said. "And type to is the _my bedroom is only a car ride away_ fans."

"Guess which one I am," the girl grinned, winking at him.

"Hmm…" Arthur said, looking over her appearance; taking in all the small details that he could possibly discover. "You are neither."

"What?"

"You are not a fan at all. There are marks on your arms that suggest that you have been leaning on a tough surface, perhaps writing something at great pressure to meet a deadline. There is ink on your hands and fingers from the many pens you have gone through, and the bulge in the right hand pocket of your jacket indicates the shape of a voice recorder." Without asking for permission, Arthur reached into her pocket and pulled out the device, noticing that it had been recording the whole time. The girl sighed a little and took off the hat and badge.

"I suppose that is a bit of a giveaway, huh?" she said, looking up at him.

"From the looks of it, you're a journalist," Arthur said, looking down at her. "Here to get a behind the scenes scoop of the detective behind the famous trial today."

"Elizabeta Héderváry," the girl said. "I can tell you do have a lot of brains in that head of yours."

"I'm going to save you the trouble," Arthur said, turning off the voice recorder and putting it back into her pocket. "I will not being doing interviews. I will not sign anything. And I will not be staying in here with you for much longer." Pushing past Elizabeta, Arthur went to make his way out of the bathroom only to have his hand grabbed.

"There's a lot of gossip out there about you!" she said. "I can help! All that juicy stuff between you and Alfred, all the cases you've solved, all the theories of how you are so smart! I can help keep it under control!"

"Oh really?" Arthur asked, his tone bored.

"Yes! I'm smart and definitely trustworthy!" Elizabeta said.

"If you are so smart then you do not require an interview," Arthur said simply. "You can just look at me and get all of the information you could ever need. Like I can with you; let's see: you're waiting for you first big story so that your boss will finally notice the skills you may or may not pertain, you're skirt is expensive but has had so much work done on it that it is most likely the only one that you own, I don't see someone smart, and you are definitely not trustworthy. But just for your small little record I will give you a simple quote - three little words," he paused and took the voice recorder from her pocket once more, turning it on and holding it close to his mouth, "You. Repel. Me."

Elizabeta stood in silent shock as she watched him turn the device off and hand it back to her, the detective turning away and walking back out into the foyer once more.

Arthur walked back over to Alfred and Francis, both of them stood talking in the same spot that Arthur had left them. They looked at him, neither asking what had taken him so long. With a shake of their heads, they head off for the public gallery whilst Arthur was led into the area for the witnesses to wait.

As the case dragged on, Arthur was slowly starting to become bored with it all, picking his fingers slightly as he looked around and tried not to analyse everyone around him. With a sigh of relief, he stood as the usher finally came in to the room to get him, following the man up to the witness booth where he took his oath and looked up at Antonio.

The Spaniard was chewing something, staring at Arthur with a slight smirk on his face. He was dressed in a suit like he should be in a court of law, but Arthur couldn't understand why he was being allowed to chew.

"Mr Kirkland, in your statement you have described Antonio Carriedo as a 'consulting criminal'," the prosecuting barrister said. "Would you care to elaborate?"

"Antonio Carriedo is a man for hire," Arthur said.

"Like a tradesman?"

"Yes."

"But not the kind that you would call out to fix your heating?"

"No, he would be more likely to plant a bomb in your pipe work or attempt to stage an assassination, but I have no doubt that he could make a pretty decent job of you heating," Arthur said, ignoring the sniggers and muffled laughter around the room.

"How would you describe this man then?" the prosecuting barrister said once the room had settled once more. "His character?"

"That is your first mistake, sir," Arthur said, turning his attention up to Antonio. "Antonio Carriedo is nothing more than a pirate. No… A spider; a spider in the absolute centre of a web consisting of a thousand criminal threads of which he knows exactly which to pull and when."

"How long-"

"That is useless question," Arthur snapped, ignoring the protests from the judge and the barristers. "How long have I know Antonio? We met for an approximate time of 5 minutes; I pulled out a gun, he tried to blow me up. Not exactly the most ample foundations of a friendship of sorts but it was an ample amount of time for me to understand who he is."

"I highly doubt that," the judge said, calling order in the court. "Mr Kirkland, how can you expect us to believe that you are an expert on this man after knowing the accused for all of 5 minutes?"

"Simple," Arthur said, looking to the other side of the room towards the jury. "The foreman looks like a lovely woman, however she is a medical secretary, obviously recently trained abroad as shown by her short hand and tan. Seven of the jury members are married, however two are having an affair. Their squirming shows that it is with each other it would seem! Oh, and they've all had tea and biscuits; would you care to know who ate the bourbon?"

"Mr Kirkland, if you can not keep your answers brined and stop showing off then this will be treated as contempt of court!" the judge snapped, glaring at the blonde in the witness booth. "Understood?"

_**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**_

Naturally, Arthur couldn't keep his mouth shut. He made a few more comments before the judge ordered for the officers to escort him down into the cells for the duration of the remaining time of the trail.

Once inside the cell, Arthur stood in the middle of the tiny room, his arms folded with an almost bored expression on his face. He watched them shut the steel door with a harsh snap, looking through the small window at the outside.

Above him, he could hear movement; apparently the trail was being called in for a break as doors were opening nearby. He moved closer to the door, looking outside and watching as Antonio was led past his door, the Spaniard winking at him as he was put into the adjoining cell.

Arthur turned and stared at the thin wall that was separating them, taking a deep breath as he knew Antonio was likely doing the same.

Some time later, the officers finally came to Arthur's cell and released him. They led him back up to the foyer of the courthouse, where Arthur could see a very annoyed looking Alfred waiting for him. His arms were folded and his eyebrows were furrowed, so Arthur could tell that he was in trouble.

"What did I say to you?" Alfred asked, watching as Arthur collected his belongings from the guards. "I said, 'don't be a smartass', didn't I? Or was I talking to myself?"

"I can't just turn it on and off," Arthur said, turning to Alfred with his belongings in hand. "Well?"

"Well, what?" Alfred asked, confused by the sudden turn in the conversation.

"You were in the public gallery!" Arthur said, looking at him like he was an idiot. "You saw the whole thing!"

"Oh…" Alfred said. "Carriedo's attorney didn't do a damn thing the whole time… He just there…"

"Because Antonio isn't mounting any defence…"

_**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**_

Once they were back in their apartment, Alfred sat back down in front of his laptop and watched as Arthur paced around the room.

"Bank of England, Tower of London, and Pentonville," the American said. "3 of the most secure places in the country and 6 weeks ago Carriedo breaks in and no-one knows how or why. All we do know is-"

"-He ended up in custody," Arthur said, turning to look at Alfred with a serious expression on his face.

"Don't do that," Alfred groaned.

"What?"

"The look."

"Look?" Arthur asked, confused.

"You're doing it again."

"Well I can't bloody see it, can I?" Arthur snapped.

Alfred pointed to the mirror on the wall beside them, an expression on his face that clearly said he thought Arthur was an idiot for not realising it's existence sooner. Arthur rolled his eyes and turned his head to face the mirror.

"It's my face," he said.

"Yes, and it's doing a thing," Alfred said. "It's doing that 'we both know what's really going on here' look."

"Well, we _do_."

"No," Alfred sighed. "_I_ don't, which is why The Face pisses me off."

"Would you prefer my other Face?"

"Yes, I would prefer The Face you make when I fuck you senseless, but I doubt this is the time," Alfred chuckled.

"True," Arthur said. "But listen… If Antonio wanted the Jewels, he'd have them. If he wanted to free all those prisoners, they would be out on the streets. The only reason that he is still in that prison cell is because he's _chose_ to stay there… But why?"

_**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**_

"He was found Not Guilty," Alfred said, on the phone as he was leaving the courtroom the next day. Arthur was stood by the window in their apartment, looking out of the window as he held the phone to his ear. "Arthur… Are you listening? He's free and you know he'll be after you! Art-"

Arthur hung up the phone and set it down, sighing softly as he walked away from the window and turned the kettle on. He got a tray from the cupboard and collected all the things he would need to make a cup of tea. As soon as the kettle was boiled, he made the tea and set it down on the coffee table between the sofa and the armchair. Sitting down on the sofa in silence, Arthur listened as the lock of the front door opened and footsteps sounded on the stairs. He heard the living room door open, not turning around as someone stepped into the room.

"You realise that most people knock when wishing to enter a person's home," he said with a shrug. "But you are not most people."

Antonio walked further into the room before settling in the armchair opposite Arthur. "Gracias," he smirked, looking around. "Violin?"

"Yes."

"Tea?"

"Just why are you here?" Arthur said, taking a sip from his cup.

"Admit that your un poquito pleased," Antonio said, the smirk still on his face. His fingers started to tap a little pattern on the arm of the chair, Arthur glancing at his fingers before looking the man in the face again.

"What with do you mean?" Arthur asked. "The verdict?"

"With me back on the streets, of course," Antonio smiled, looking up into Arthur's eyes. "Every fairytale needs a villain. You need me, whether you like it or not. I give you a purpose. We're so alike - except that you're boring and stuffy."

"Very nice," Arthur said, sipping his tea and rolling his eyes.

"I owe you a fall, Mr Kirkland," Antonio said, getting up from his seat. "And that's the problem - the final problem - will you be able to work out how I'll do it?"

Without another word, he walked out of the building leaving Arthur to clear up the tea.

_**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**_

After that strange meeting, life continued almost as normal for Arthur and Alfred; the American still none the wiser of Antonio's visit and threat towards the British man. Arthur had kept quiet about, hiding within his cases.

Alfred could sort of tell that something wasn't right; normally Arthur wouldn't be particularly keen to get involved with case that included children, but their most recent case was one that Arthur got more involved with than he normally would. He looked over everything twice, making sure that he had all of the answers before telling the police where to find the two missing children.

However, when they were brought to the station to interview the children, Arthur had to the leave the room as the oldest child started to scream at him, almost as though she had seen him before.

"I've never even met her before…" Arthur said, absolutely perplexed as to why the child was acting that way towards him.

"You make anyone want to scream," Francis said, running a hand through his blonde hair and glancing at Arthur. "Just face it; your eyebrows are getting way out of hand."

"Oh, fuck off, Frog," Arthur said, rolling his eyes. He looked at Alfred who was watching him carefully and shook his head. "I'm going to go home if that's okay. You can get by alright, can't you?"

"Huh?" Alfred asked, turning and watching in surprise as Arthur walked past him and down onto the streets without another words.

Rubbing his face slightly, Arthur looked around at the night sky as he waited for a taxi to go by. Holding his hand out, he flagged down the first taxi that came back and opened the door once it had pulled over by him.

"221B Baker Street," he said, rubbing his temples again after shutting the door. The driver nodded and started to drive, however a monitor in the back of the car started to play an advertisement for a holiday. "Could you turn this off please?" Arthur asked, frowning as he was ignored by the driver. "Excuse me! Can you turn this thing off?"

Once more the driver ignored him, but this time Arthur turned his attention back to the monitor as the picture was blocked with snow. Soon though, it came back into focus and Antonio was sat looking at him with a smirk on his face. The background behind was that of a children's television program, and when Antonio spoke it was in a patronising tone that one would use when talking to a child.

"Hola," he said. "Are you ready for the story? This is the tale of Sir Grumpy-Brows." Arthur glared at the screen but remained silent to listen. "Sir Grumpy-Brows was the bravest and smartest knight at the Round Table, but soon many of the other knights started to grow sceptical of the many tales about all the monsters he'd slain… and soon they began to wonder… 'Are Sir Grumpy-Brows stories really true?'" Antonio smirked a little and tilted his head. "Even the King began to doubt the knight. But that wasn't the end of the knight's problems. That wasn't _the final problem_…"

Glaring at the screen, Arthur slammed his hand against the glass separating himself and the driver. "STOP THE CAB!" he shouted, getting out of the car as the car pulled up beside the cab. He moved over to the driver's door and looked at the driver through the window. "What the bloody hell was that?" he exclaimed. "What was that?"

The driver tilted his head up and smirked at him, revealing himself to be Antonio Carriedo. "No charge," he said, pressing his foot down on the accelerator and driving away before Arthur could do anything more than glare.

Without thinking, Arthur ran into the road to chase after the cab, but soon lost it as it sped off into the distance. Coming to a stop, he glared at the spot that the cab had disappeared from. However, he was unaware of another car speeding up behind him. He turned around and saw the headlights, but before he could feel the car someone pulled him back onto the pavement.

"Arthur!" the man said, panting slightly. "You idiot! What were you doing?"

Arthur turned and looked numbly at the man, uncertain who he actually was or why he knew his name. Before he could ask, gunshots sounded in the air and the man collapsed in a heap on the floor. Arthur watched the man bleed for a moment before turning and looking around for whoever had shot at them, but he couldn't see anyone no matter how hard he looked.

"Arthur?"

The Brit looked around as he saw another cab had pulled up on the other side of the road, Alfred stood by the passengers door and looking at him with worry.

"Alfred…" Arthur said numbly, standing still as the American hurried over to him and wrapped his arms around him. Arthur pressed his face to his chest and took a deep breath. "What happened?"

"Carriedo was driving my cab," Arthur said, chuckling slightly at how stupid it sounded. "He was driving and… and then I got out and he left… then that man got shot…"

Alfred held him tighter and kissed the top of his head. "Let's get you home in a bit, okay? We need to call the police about this first."

_**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**_

After the incident in the street was settled with, Alfred took Arthur straight back to Baker Street. He kept a close eye on the tense Briton, watching as he hung his coat and scarf up. Sighing slightly as he saw Arthur's hand shake, he went over to him and wrapped his arms around him again.

"I'll be okay…" he mumbled.

"He died because he helped me," Arthur said. "He's one of the four men that moved to the street awhile ago. Scott told me that they were assassins." He chuckled slightly. "I didn't believe him but it seems now… I have something that they all want, but if one of them gets too close…"

"…the others kill them before they can get it," Alfred finished.

"So it would seem," Arthur said, looking up at the American. "You realise this could end badly right?"

Alfred nodded and kissed Arthur's forehead. "I do, but I knew that as soon as you were nearly blown up ages ago."

Arthur chuckled slightly and rest his head on Alfred's chest. "You know how to calm me though."

Alfred kissed the top of his head and smiled. "Always will."

They looked around though when they heard the doorbell ring, listening as their housekeeper went to answer. Alfred followed after the elderly woman just in case, before returning to the living room with Francis.

"No, Francis," Arthur said, not turning around from the mantelpiece.

Francis blinked in obvious surprise, scratching his head before talking. "What?"

"The answer is no."

"You haven't even heard the question yet!"

"You want to take me down to the station," Arthur said simply.

"Arthur…" Francis started to say.

"The scream?" Arthur said, cutting the Frenchman off. "The little girl screaming at me. Is it starting to make you think that I am somehow responsible for the kidnapping that happened? Hmmmm, Carriedo was right. He is very good at planting those little seeds of doubt in peoples minds. You can't kill an idea."

"Will you come?" Francis asked finally, watching the Briton with slight nerves.

"One photograph is all it'll take for that seed of doubt to be planted into the minds of all of the people in this country," Arthur said, walking over to Francis. "Think for a moment as the press is always outside my door. The scream of that little girl, a shot of me being taken in for questioning? He's trying to destroy me inch by inch. Do you not see it? It's his game. His twisted game, and one that I am not willing to play."

Francis sighed and rubbed his temples. "Arthur, I came alone as a favour to you… If it comes to it, I'll be back with more officers and warrant," he said, before turning and walking out of the building.

Arthur watched him go before looking at Alfred who had finally decided to find his voice again.

"Arthur…" Alfred said, walking over to him. "I don't want the world believing that you're…"

"That I am what?"

"A fraud…"

"You're worried that they are right, aren't you?"

"No!"

"He's playing with your mind too…"

"Arthur…"

"You're frightened that I've been lying to you this whole time…"

"Arthur! No! I know that you are real!"

"One hundred percent?"

Alfred put his hands on Arthur's arms and rubbed them softly. "No one can fake being such an aggravating smartass all the time," he said with a slight smirk.

Arthur looked up at him, his mouth twitching with the trace of smile before hitting Alfred lightly on the chest. "Git."

"Damn straight!" Alfred grinned, lifting Arthur up. "Now, it's time for bed! I will make sure you stay there!"

"ALFRED!"

_**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**_

Alfred kept his promise to Arthur about keeping him in bed. He kept him there for a very heat 45 minutes in which he lost count of the breathy moans of his name. However, they were now dressed and back in the living room again where Arthur was reading a book and Alfred was typing away on his laptop.

Unfortunately, the serene atmosphere was shattered unexpectedly as a pounding knock sounded on the front door. Arthur closed his eyes and took a sharp breath in through his nose as their housekeeper went to open the door, standing and putting on his coat and scarf.

"Arthur?" Alfred asked, confused by the sudden actions of the smaller man.

Arthur tilted his head to the side, with a look on his face that said 'wait for it'. Alfred cocked his head to the side, waiting for a moment before a shout sounded downstairs.

"POLICE, MOVE ASIDE, MADAM!"

"Well, how rude!"

The pair in the living room watched as Francis and two other officers, the Beilschmidt brothers, walked into the room, the two German officers moving over to handcuff Arthur's hands behind his back.

"Arthur Kirkland, I am arresting you on suspicion of abduction of kidnapping," Francis said. "Ludwig take him downstairs."

Ludwig nodded, almost carrying Arthur out of the room as Alfred watched on in horror.

"Francis, you don't have to do-"

"Do not interfere, or I'll arrest you too," Francis snapped, cutting the American off before he could finish his sentence. Alfred glared at him, seeming to think for a moment. "What…?"

_**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**_

Outside, Arthur was leaning against the side of a police car, facing the vehicle and watching everything happening behind him through the reflections on the shiny material. He looked to his right as Alfred was slammed up against the car next to him, an amused expression on his features.

"Joining me are you?" Arthur asked, grinning slightly.

"Yeah," Alfred chuckled. "Apparently it's against the law to floor an officer."

Arthur grinned and looked over his shoulder to see Francis walking around with a bloody nose, biting his lip slightly in an attempt to stop himself from laughing at the sight. Looking down, he watched as the other officer, Gilbert, unlocked his left wrist from the handcuffs and locked it to Alfred's right wrist; effectively chaining the pair together.

"Okay, so… awkward daring escape time," Arthur mumbled, looking into the open window of the car as a dispatch message started to sound through the radio. He grinned slightly and reached inside quickly, pushing the Talk button on the device and sending a high pitched crackling noise into the ears of the two officers near them. Once they were distracted, Arthur grabbed one of their pistols free and raised it into the air. "Ladies and gentlemen, will you all please get on your knees?" He looked around, noticing Francis' expression turn sour as though mentally shouting _for fuck's sake_. Arthur frowned and shot the pistol twice in the air. "NOW PLEASE."

"Do as he says!" Francis said, making himself and everyone around the area get onto their knees.

Arthur smirked slightly as he pointed the gun at Alfred. "Now stay back, my hostage and I are leaving."

Alfred blinked but ran when Arthur tugged on his arm, the pair fleeing into the night as the police started to shout and chase. They ran down an alleyway in an attempt to hide, Arthur finding it to be a dead end. It was fairly dark, so he pushed himself a wall and pulled Alfred against him in an attempt to disguise themselves. Alfred blushed slightly but dipped his head, so they blended together in the shadows. Arthur could feel the taller man's heavy breath on his neck, closing his eyes and swallowing slightly as he tried to keep his mind clear.

"C-come on," Arthur said finally. "I know somewhere we can go to get these handcuffs off."

_**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**_

After one more mad dash through the city, Arthur finally stopped at the front door of a small flat on the other side of the city. Alfred, whose wrist was really starting to ache, looked around in confusion as he had no idea what was actually going on.

Arthur knocked on the door and waited, raising his eyebrows slightly as the door opened.

"Elizabeta. Too late to go on the record?" he said, Alfred looking at the bewildered girl in the open doorway.

Rolling her eyes slightly, the Hungarian woman stepped aside and let the two men into her home, watching tentatively as she saw the handcuffs on them. She walked behind them as they entered her living room, watching as Arthur picked up a hair pin and started to pick the lock on his wrist. Sitting down, she folded her legs and watched amusedly, a soft smirk on her face.

"Congratulations," Arthur said shortly. "The truth about Arthur Kirkland." He glanced at the news paper on the table of her home, at the headline and the many stories of himself and Antonio Carriedo.

"I gave you your chance. I wanted to be on your side remember," Elizabeta said. "I wanted to help but you said no."

"How utterly convenient for you though that someone just so happens to arrive with the whole story! Who is Brook?" Elizabeta shook her head. "Oh, come on, Elizabeta. No-one simply trusts the voice on the other end of the phone; they investigate, they discover!" He looked down as his arm was freed, handing the pin to Alfred so he could free himself. But as he did so a shuffling sound happened outside of the living room, the door opening and revealing a sight Arthur certainly wasn't expecting.

"Liz, I tried to get the right sauce for the pasta, but I had to get a different brand…" said Antonio as he walked into the room. He was carrying a shopping bag, wearing tracksuit bottoms and a plain t-shirt. His eyes widened in fear as he saw Arthur, backing against the wall and dropping his shopping. "You said he wouldn't find me here! You said I was safe!"

"You are safe," Elizabeta said.

"Carriedo?" Alfred shouted, confused.

"No," Elizabeta said. "Brook, an actor that Arthur Kirkland hired to play Antonio Carriedo."

"WHAT?"

"I have his credentials here," Elizabeta said, holding out a folder. Alfred snatched it from her with a scathing look, flicking through it. Brook was a children's entertainer, it seemed.

Alfred didn't buy it though.

"He's Antonio, damn it!"

"I'm not! He paid me! He paid me! I'm telling you!" Antonio pleaded, glancing at Arthur. "Tell him you lied!"

Finally snapping, Arthur walked towards Antonio who quickly ran from the room. Alfred joined Arthur in his chase, but both soon found that Antonio had once again disappeared.

They both walked out into the street, leaving Elizabeta to clean her house up once more. Arthur looked around before sighing heavily. He knew that tomorrow everything would change, that once that story was published more that it would be over for him in an instant. He didn't particularly mind, but he knew that there was one way that he could stop it all and still hide.

"Go home, Alfred," he said.

"What?" asked the American, clearly surprised by the demand.

"I need to do something alone," Arthur said. "Go home."

_**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**_

Alfred did as he was told reluctantly, dozing off at home for merely an hour. He waited through the night, drinking three cups of coffee in the process, and yet still Arthur never returned home. He was starting to get confused by Arthur's behaviour, but he figured it was nothing new; probably the stress of being framed by an evil genius.

With a yawn and a stretch, he got up as the phone started to ring. He picked up the receiver, placing it to his head whilst trying to stifle another yawn.

"221B Baker Street, Alfred Jones speaking," he said, but was suddenly alert as the person responded. They told him Arthur was at Bart's Hospital, and that he needed to get there quick.

_**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**_

It wasn't a lie that Arthur was at Bart's Hospital.

He just wasn't being treated.

No, he was walking out onto the roof of the hospital, listening to the faint sound of the Bee Gees' _Stayin' Alive _playing through the small speakers of a mobile phone. It was in the hands of Antonio Carriedo, who glanced at the British man with a small smirk on his features once more. He was him this time, no mirrors or illusions, simply himself and Arthur, and Arthur knew in that moment that they had reached their finale.

"The final problem," Antonio said, looking back at the device in his hands. "Here we are, Arthur." He held up the phone higher, his olive eyes watching it with distaste. "_Stayin' Alive_! It's so boring, is it not?" He turned the device off and looked back at Arthur. "It's not a very distracting song, it's just boring. You, on the other hand, were the greatest distraction of all."

Arthur watched him as he put the phone in his pocket, folding his own arms and letting his fingers tap a small pattern on his arms.

"You understood that too?" Antonio smirked, watching Arthur's fingers.

"Every beat is a one; every rest is a zero. A simple binary code that was planted in my head. The code you used to break into all those places at once."

"Very good, Arthur," Antonio said, walking over to the other man. "Unfortunately, they are meaningless. They wouldn't simply crash the world by pressing a button. I needed help from the inside, idiota. I knew that you would fall this whole ploy; you can't help yourself. It's in your nature to be an insatiable know-it-all. I'm just glad that you've chosen such a high building for this all to happen; almost perfect I would say."

"For what to happen?" Arthur asked, looking to the side of the building. "Oh, of course... My suicide."

"_Genius detective is proven fraud_," Antonio said. "I read it in the papers so it must be true! Fantastic things these newspaper; almost like fairy-tales, and pretty Grimm ones too."

"I can still prove you created a false identity though," Arthur said.

"Oh just kill yourself already," Antonio snapped boredly, running a hand through his hair. "It'll be easy, just run and jump."

"You really are insane," Arthur muttered, raising his eyebrows as Antonio started to circle around him like a predator that had found its prey.

"You're just getting that now?"

Arthur growled slightly and shoved Antonio away from him, holding onto the collar of his shirt and holding him over the edge of the building. Antonio, on instinct, held onto Arthur's arms and looked up at him.

"Let me give you some incentive," the Spaniard said, his tone turning savage. "Your friends will die if you don't jump."

"Alfred..."

"Not just Alfred," Antonio smirked. "Everyone."

"My housekeeper…"

"Everyone."

"Francis."

"Three bullets; three gunmen; three corpses," Antonio grinned. "Nothing will stop them except seeing you jump."

"You are kidding me…"

"Unfortunately for you and your friends, I am not," Antonio said; shrugging his shoulders as Arthur set him upright. The pair looked at each other for a moment. "I'm certainly not going to call them off. You know me, Arthur. I'm not lying."

Arthur swallowed slightly, keeping his eyes trained on the other. He knew that he wasn't lying, and it sickened him slightly to know that someone would willingly kill innocent people just for a game against him.

"Could you give me some privacy for a moment?" asked the British man, turning slightly and climbing up onto the ledge. He glanced down at Antonio slightly once he was in place. "Please?"

Antonio shrugged once more, walking away from Arthur. The British man looked around as he stood on the ledge, thinking more clearly now that the air was getting into his system once more. A smile formed on his lips and started to laugh, a laugh that was soon picked up by Antonio who turned lividly.

"What?" he asked, annoyed as Arthur got down from the ledge laughing still. "What? What did I miss?"

"_You're not going to do it_," Arthur said, walking over to the Spaniard. "I don't have to die, because you _will_ call them off."

"You think that you can make me change my mind?" Antonio said, clearly amused by the sudden change in the man before him. "Really?"

"Of course I will," Arthur said, smirking slightly. "Because I am like you; far from ordinary and prepared to do what others will not."

"You _talk_ big," Antonio countered. "You are ordinary. You are – you are on the side of the angels!"

"Oh, I may be on the side of the angels," Arthur said, his tone darkening with his demeanor. "But don't think for one minute that I am one of them."

A silent moment passed between the pair, Antonio nodding after a moment.

"No, you're not…" he said. "You are me." He looked Arthur up and down once more. "Thank you, Arthur Kirkland. As long as I'm alive, you can save your friends; unfortunately, that's not much of a consolation."

In one rapid motion, Antonio reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun. Arthur yelled in shock and backed away on instinct, watching in horror as Antonio put the gun to his own mouth and pulled the trigger. He dropped to the ground instantly, his eyes taking on a glasslike appearance as they were fixed open.

Arthur's breath caught in his throat, knowing now that there would be only one way to stop the gunmen. Yes, he could walk away but he knew from experience in the street that night previously. With no other choice, Arthur walked back over to the ledge and stepped up onto it. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, opening them once more and looking down at the dirty streets below. He watched as a taxi pulled up across the road from the hospital, his heart dropping as Alfred got out of the vehicle and looked around.

Rummaging in his pockets quickly, Arthur pulled out his mobile phone and dialed Alfred's number, listening to the faint sound of the American's ring tone on the street below.

"Hello?"

Arthur closed his eyes again at the sound of the American's voice. "Alfred…"

"Hey! Arthur! Are you okay? I've been looking for you everywhere!" the American said/

"Turn around and walk away, Alfred…"

Alfred looked around from where he was stood. "Why? Where are you?"

"On the hospital roof," Arthur said, licking his lips as they went dry. He watched Alfred turn around and look up at him, his expression turning sickened.

"A-Arthur… W-why are you on the roof?"

"I lied about everything, Alfred…" Arthur said, his voice breaking slightly. "I am a fraud, Antonio wasn't real… But the one thing I never lied about was how much I love you."

"Arthur… No…"

"I'm so, so sorry, Alfred… T-This is my note…"

Alfred blinked, his eyes watering as they kept glued to his erratic boyfriend. "Arthur… No…"

"That's what people do right? Leave a note?"

"No, Arthur!"

"I love you, Alfred."

"NO!"

Arthur didn't listen though, simply hanging up the phone, closing his eyes and stepping off of the ledge. He could feel the wind billowing around him, feeling cold until all he could see was black.

_**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**_

Gasping slightly, Arthur sat bolt up in bed; his heart beating a mile a minute. He could hear the quick beeping of a heart monitor beside him, and as he finally calmed himself down he finally realized that he was in a hospital bed. He was wearing one of the strange gowns that patients normally wore, a tube was attached to his nose and on his arms and chest were connections to the heart monitor and an IV, along with a cast on his right arm. Around his head, Arthur could feel a bandage.

Lying back, he suddenly felt lethargic, as though he had been asleep for a long time. He looked up as a doctor came into the room.

"Ah, Mister Kirkland, you're awake," he smiled warmly, looking at the chart at the end of Arthur's bed. "You gave us all a scare but luckily we were able to stabilize you."

"What… What's going on?" Arthur asked; his head spinning slightly as he tried to figure out what was going on.

"Your friend Mister Jones found you on the floor of your home a week ago," the doctor explained. "He said you must have fallen down the stairs."

Blinking slightly, Arthur's mind seemed to go on fast forward once again as reality caught up to him. "W-where is Alfred?"

"I'll go and get him," the doctor smiled. "I believe he was going to get a drink."

Arthur nodded and watched the man leave, lying back again and taking a few steady breaths. It had all been a dream. A very vivid and surreal dream, but a dream nonetheless.

Smiling slightly as the door reopened, Arthur watched as Alfred scrambled into the room. The American looked relieved and overjoyed all at once.

"Arthur!" he cried, sitting beside the bed and holding Arthur's hand. "You scared me so bad!"

"Nice to see you too, Alfred," Arthur chuckled, turning his hand over to hold Alfred's.

"When I found you…" Alfred mumbled. "You… I… The last thing I did was shout at you over something so pathetic… I was terrified you'd die hating me… That that would be the last thing you'd remember of me…"

"Shhhh…" Arthur said, sitting up slightly and putting his fingers to Alfred's lips to hush him. "It's okay, I'm okay."

"But-"

Arthur cut him off by pressing his lips to his, gently holding his face whilst feeling Alfred's hand settle on his waist. When he pulled back, he rest his forehead against the American's and smiled. "I promise."

"Okay…" Alfred said, chuckling slightly. He kissed him again. "You know, you kept smiling occasionally all week. What were you dreaming of?"

"This and that," Arthur smiled playfully.

"Pleeeeeeeease~?"

"You," Arthur said, telling a half truth.

Alfred blinked. "What about me?"

"Everything," Arthur chuckled. "You talking to me, kissing me, and-"

"You had a dirty dream about me when you were unconscious in hospital?"

"Pretty much," Arthur laughed.

Alfred smiled and gently wrapped his arms around him, pulling him against his chest and kissing his head. "I missed you…"

"I was still here," Arthur said, holding onto Alfred. "I just wasn't in my head."

"I love you, Arthur, okay? Never forget it no matter what we argue about…"

"I love you too, you great idiot," Arthur said, smiling up at him. "Just don't mention **Sherlock** for a while…"

"Why?"

"I may have been asleep for a week but I need a break from it…"

_**Notes:**_

_**And so this epicly long story that has put everything else on hold is over. Like last year, this is a birthday gift for my friend Charlotte, who I hope has been patiently waiting for this instead of plotting to murder me…**_

_**Anyways, happy birthday Char! I hope that it's been fun and entertaining and that you've got some brilliant gifts. You are the only friend that has been true to me and stuck by me, and that makes you a very rare type of friend. I'm very grateful that you've stuck by me and hope you'll continue to do so or just kick me if I get annoying.**_


End file.
